Setting the pattern for 2018

It’s here! The clean slate! The untouched year for which we each hope we can set our own course. Very deliberately today, I did three things I enjoy, three things I want to do a lot of in the coming year.

First on my list was to write. I have been haphazard, unscheduled about writing time in the last few months, and I want to get back to committing words to paper in a regular, daily I hope, fashion. I’ve changed my thinking from a daily word count to a scene a day—it actually comes out about the same, but somehow it’s better to think in scenes—I certainly wouldn’t quit in the middle of a scene just because I’d reached my word count. It’s also easier to plan ahead in terms of scenes. The current work-in-progress, is a Kelly O’Connell novel, as yet untitled.

The second thing on my bucket list was to read. I was nearing the end of Honeymoon with Murder, one of Carolyn Hart’s Death on Demand bookstore mysteries. I am a devoted fan of that series and not sure how I missed this one, but I apparently did. Enjoyed it immensely and was both glad and reluctant to finish it today. I always leave the world of a good mystery somewhat reluctantly, because I’ve become fond of the people in that world and felt at home there. But now I’m moving on to Death Come Quickly, the 22^nd (can you imagine that?) China Bayles Mystery by Susan Wittig Albert. So much to read, to little time to do it.

And the third thing was cooking. First thing this morning, before my cup of tea, before reading emails and Facebook, I started a pot of black-eyed peas. I asked for a ham hock when Christian went to the store yesterday, but he reported they were sold out and bought salt pork. So I cut the hunk of salt pork into smaller chunks (too lazy to really dice it) and browned them with the diced onion and garlic in the pot. Then I put in dried peas and water and let it simmer all morning—okay, it boiled once, but it’s not like pintos where if you let them boil they’ll give you gas. Peas are smaller and cook faster, so by noon they were done. The only seasoning I’d added, late in the cooking, was a half teaspoon each of black pepper and allspice. Turned them off, let them cool a bit, and refrigerated.

Tonight, I fished out the salt pork and threw it away; by then Christian had brought ham, which I cut into bite-size pieces and added to the pot. Lots of folks think collards should be added for optimum luck, but I don’t like collards, so I put in a can of cut green beans. No objections from any of my dinner guest—my immediate family of three. Served the peas with pot likker over rice. So good, and now we will feel lucky all year.

Another note on cooking: Christian made enough King Ranch chicken last night to feed the multitudes: two 9x13 pans, one for a family where there had been a death, another for the house, and a small one for me without bell pepper (isn’t he a good son-in-law?). Sometimes I think he makes cooking twice as hard as I do—I’ve never followed a recipe for King Ranch, let alone added bell pepper and cumin. I just cut up tortillas, diced onion and chicken sort of, and layered it in a casserole dish. Then I mixed cream of mushroom and cream of chicken soups and Rotel original tomatoes to taste, poured it over, and topped it with grated cheese. Christian read several recipes, added the cumin and peppers, and diced it all move finely than I ever had patience for. His stroke of genius? Since he left the peppers out of the smaller one, he added corn—great addition, so appropriate to the casserole, and so good with the other ingredients. Why didn’t I ever think of that?

So there you have it—the way I hope to spend my year: writing, reading, cooking. The only negative that I hope isn’t a pattern is that I am developing a head cold. I sneezed a lot the last few days. Today the sneezes are mostly gone, replaced by a lot of coughing, a slightly scratchy throat, and a runny nose. I don’t feel bad—maybe a little tired—but I’m not sure what these annoying symptoms will do to my eye surgery scheduled for Thursday. I’ll call the doctor’s office tomorrow. I’d hate to cough or sneeze in the middle of delicate eye surgery. A part of me is glad for another reason to postpone, but the logical part of me desperately wants to get it over with.

Sitting at my desk, looking at my curtain of sparkly green lights beyond the French doors. That’s how I want my year to be—sparkly with bright lights. I hope your year is too.